


The Book of Love (is long and boring)

by Oriki-Miitad (Sneaking_UnicornWitch)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a song, Cody Can Sing, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage, Not Based On The Dirty Ones, Obi-Wan And Cody Raise Luke, dirty songs, pre and post order 66, reading as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaking_UnicornWitch/pseuds/Oriki-Miitad
Summary: Some snippets of Obi-Wan and Cody's views of each other, over the yearsBased on the song "The Book of Love" by Gavin James
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93





	The Book of Love (is long and boring)

Cody was snuggled up on the bunk in Obi-Wan’s quarters, nestled under the most ridiculously comfortable and garishly coloured blanket he’d ever set eyes on. Thankfully, he didn’t need to have them open for this. 

He couldn’t quite place when this had become normal, sometime between Obi-Wan’s reconnection with the Duchess Satine and the absolute clusterfuck that had been Umbara, he supposed. The line between General and Commander, Jedi and Clone, had blurred considerably as the war set in. He’d considered Obi-Wan a friend after the first few saves from the jaws from death; he has considered him something _more_ a shorter time yet. 

The first time this had happened, Cody was three for three on sleepless nights, stuck retreading the same scenes in his head. They’d lost a lot of brothers, and though he knew it was faulty intel to blame - it was _always_ faulty intel - he felt responsible. Many of them had only just got their paint, some had been shinies, practically kids. 

Obi-Wan had found him on the Obs Deck at some force awful time at night and had ushered him back to quarters. He’d argued that he’d _tried_ sleeping, he _couldn’t_ , but the General had shushed him, covered him with the monstrosity of a blanket and sat next to him with a padd. It had been paperwork, that first time. Facts and figures, the blandest of the bland. He’d laid on the bed unsure of himself that time, not wanting to get too close. Still, with Obi-Wan’s hand stroking his hair he had gradually lulled into a restful half sleep. Awake enough to feel the ghost of a kiss on his forehead. 

Sometimes, it was poetry. Other-times, martial stratagems in languages Cody didn’t speak. It didn’t matter. He was almost sure his body was beginning to develop a response to the gaudy blanket, yawning and eyes drooping as soon as he saw the damn thing. 

This time, the worst time, the time where Obi-Wan had practically had to drag him out of the salles because punching things had felt like a lot less work than thinking about things, it was dancing lessons. Cody could imagine the steps in his mind as Obi-Wan read. He’d never been to a gala, but Llats Ward had insisted that all the troopers learn Nubian ballet to increase their flexibility and body control. 

The hand in his hair scritched softly into his curls, and Cody nestled himself further into Obi-Wan’s side, letting the lilt of Obi-Wan’s words wash through him. 

Obi-Wan could read him anything.

*****

Obi-Wan hadn’t even known it was Cody, at first. The ‘freshers in the officers quarters had been broken, an occurrence that was most certainly not due to Crys’ still in Engineering three decks below. And so he, along with the rest of his officers, was having to use the communal refreshers in general berthing. 

It was _not_ an issue. He had grown up in the creche, was used to being around others in the nude. It was more that he didn’t want to make anybody under his command uncomfortable. As such, he’d taken to showering at off times, where there were far fewer bodies fighting for space under the sonics. Force but he’d be glad with his water rations once the ‘freshers were fixed. 

He was just getting in the cubicle when he heard the man’s voice. Over the whine of the sonics he couldn’t hear if there were words, only the gentle melody. It was transfixing. He’d spent his time under the vibrations, straining to hear that soft singing. Gearshift knocked him out of his trance, rapping on the side of the wall for his turn under the sonic shower. Obi-Wan ducked his head, caught, and scurried into the adjoining locker room. There was only one other person in there, his commander. 

He gave a quick nod, and then turned to face the wall, creating as much privacy for the two of them as possible in a communal space. He wasn’t going to be like Master Sinube in the baths!

After Remembrances a couple of campaigns later, Cody’s voice had struck out loud and clear, singing ‘Vode An’. After Cody sang the first few lines on his own the voices of his brother joined in. Some harmonised, while others kept on Cody’s unwavering beat. It was, to a word, transcendental. Obi-Wan allowed himself to get caught up in the feeling of them all in the Force, their grief and their love, before honing in on Cody’s pulsing presence. Cody flicked him a thought, _not going to join in, Sir?_ and Obi-Wan pushed an idea of watching in rapture. A swell of warmth again, and Cody carried on singing even as he walked over to Obi-Wan and sat down beside him.

Even better were the songs that came from a place of joy. The troopers were merry, falling into piles around the campfire, and the songs had started up a while ago. He’d been shocked when it was _Wooley_ , the _vod’ika_ , who had set the tone with a rousing rendition of The Mouf Song. 

There had been the usual awful rotgut, but also a couple of bottles of his own making, brought from the temple. Sadly the labels had faded, but they were all pretty decent brews - if he did say so himself. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine who had taught the men an ancient Ahch-Toan drinking tune, but it was abundantly clear they had… adapted it. 

_And as I went home on Taungsday night_

_As drunk as drunk could be_

_I saw a deece upon the chair_

_Where my old deece should be_

_Well, I called my cyar and I says to them_

_"Will you kindly tell to me_

_Who owns that deece upon the chair_

_Where my old deece should be?"_

_Ay, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool_

_Still you cannot see_

_That's a lovely bes’bev, that me Alpha sent to me_

_Well, it's many a day I've travelled, a hundred miles or more_

_But a bes’bev with no holes in, sure, I never saw before_

Cody was among the less inebriated, a consummate leader, and sitting beside him Obi-Wan could feel his body rumble as he sang his way through the verses. 

Cody turned to him in apology as they got to the last verse, lips twisting in a slight grimace as he breathed in. 

_And when I went home on Bend’ay night_

_A little after three_

_I saw a vod running out the door_

_With his blacks about his knee_

_Well, I called me cyar and I said to them_

_“Will you kindly tell to me_

_Who was that vod running out the door_

_With his blacks about his knee.”_

_Ay, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool_

_Still you cannot see_

_'t was nothing but the General, the Senate sent to me._

_Well it's many a day I've travelled, a hundred miles or more_

_But a jetii that could last 'till three, I never saw before._

A laugh erupts from his lips, clutching Cody to his side as the song ends. He hears whoops from the surrounding men, and shrugs the arm not slung round his commander. He loves the occasions where Cody’s soul flies, where he is free to sing. No matter what Cody sings, it will always fill his heart to hear it - even if it is really dumb. 

Cody could sing him anything.

*****

It has been years since those moments, they’ve fallen into their roles on Tatooine.

The original blanket was lost when they ran from Utapau, left on the bunk in a room they'll never return to. But Obi-Wan still reads to him, holding him on sleepless nights, murmuring memorised passages of prose or whispers his way through a trashy romance novel.

Cody still pours out his music, humming as he washes up, singing on their way through the desert. Rarely, when the mood takes the two of them and Luke's not there, he breaks out the drinking songs. Often those nights, though joyful to start with, end in melancholy for all the brothers lost. 

Little Luke stays with them when they can butter up Owen up to allow it, and when he can’t Cody makes sure his route to work and back takes him past the Lars homestead. 

Finding work had been fairly easy, easier than he might have expected, but out here people are used to looking the other way.

Most times the only things he brings home are bruises. Very rarely he brings along a stray - an escaped slave or a _vod_ \- and they message Ahsoka from the comm that’s kept hidden in a cave system well away from their hut. 

But sometimes he’s able to pick up a dry box of tea from a stall in the town, bought for far more than it should cost. He gifts it to _Ben_ \- and that’s become gradually easier to not stumble over - in the most overstated way possible to draw out a beautiful yet uncommon laugh from his partner. 

They are happy, the two _sometimes three_ of them. Cody loves Luke, has taken him as his own in a way that Ben just isn’t emotionally able to do, too scared of twice-failing, scared to know his brother’s son the way he did Anakin. So Ben is Ben, but Cody is Buir, and they are a family except when Owen gets it in his head they’re not. There are documents, notarised by a local official (Ben hadn’t been pleased to compel in such a way, but it was the expedient means), that state that Ben and Cody Kenobi are married, have been for five years. It’s longer than Cody’s known a life outside of Kamino, but even that is a protection. His adoption of Luke is not so official.

Luke _should_ be too young to recognise the sound of a panic attack, too young to understand when Ben goes somewhere in his mind that isn’t here with them, and Cody tries to protect his _ad_ in the same way he had tried to protect his _vod’ikase_ during the war. He’d not really succeeded at either, he thinks, as Luke wriggles his way into Cody’s lap while he’s trying to block out the drum of failure from his beating heart.

Once a year Cody arrives on the speeder with a bouquet of desert flowers. There’s only a short season for them, and so it in no way corresponds to anything approaching an anniversary for the two of them, but Ben flushes over them nonetheless and hurries to put them in a mug of water. A scarce luxury, to celebrate that they have survived, they are here and _together_. 

This time, Cody has brought home flowers as well as a bottle of... something. It bears passing resemblance to the awful alcohol they’d distilled on the Negotiator, if Crys had ever managed to create something with Essence of Sand. One glass down, Ben gets to his feet, pats Cody back down onto their ratty couch, and wanders off into the alcove that had their shared bed in it. Luke is splayed out on his own bed, sleeping as only the young do.

Cody catches a glimpse of a wooden box as Ben sits back down, and he nudges his partner’s shoulder. The box opens, and Cody sees two small metal bands in the bottom of a heart-shaped box. He feels his pulse race as Ben lifts one out with a smile.

“You want to give me a wedding ring?” Cody blurts.

Ben nods, and he can feel the cool ring, not yet body warmed, as it slips onto his finger. A kiss brushes against his lips and Cody rocks forwards to meet it. It’s slow, unhurried, a kiss at the start of something new but with all the years of experience together leading up to it. 

They’ve been through a lot, nothing in theirs or their kid’s future will be easy, but as Cody traces a nail along the ring on his finger, he knows they’ll do it together.

Cody will give him anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahch-to is Space Ireland, just as Stewjon is Space Scotland? Well, it's my canon now. 
> 
> Seven Drunken Nights is a fantastic song, and yes, I did rewrite the whole thing - though I only use a snippet here [the whole thing's](https://oriki-miitad.tumblr.com/post/632528793659228160/five-drunken-nights-clone-edition) on my tumblr!
> 
> The _Moose_ Song is **rude**. I can't imagine The Mouf Song is any better. (Mouf are Star Wars bears, ish).


End file.
